Learning To Love Through Letters
by Verthril
Summary: "Stupid girl." Chastising herself, love unrequited was the worst kind to fall into, something Marie had learnt to be true from the authority on the subject, Logan himself.


Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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It was the kind of Summer day that roused a sweat which begged for a breeze, hot but not uncomfortably so. On one of those welcome breezes the fragrance of wildflowers came, even as it snatched at the dirt and dust kicked up as she walked along the dry gravel shoulder of some nameless stretch of cracked asphalt. At twenty-two, hitching rides was something Marie hadn't done in years. Funny how all it took was a knapsack slung across her shoulder to fall into it as easily as she had her first go around.

Money in her pocket she had this time, and a place to go back to once she was done running from how stifling the mansion had felt as of late. Reliving that moment from years before, back when she'd packed up the little she could squirrel away for her trip on to Alaska, this time around it was done without any of the panic or fret she'd known back when she'd been getting ready to run away from the only home she'd ever known. Heck, she'd even left behind a little letter for the folk she cared about. _To whom it may concern_...

Laughing at herself as she thought again about how hesitant she'd been to scribble something, anything, down on the envelope, it had been a struggle to think of just who she was really leaving it for.

Returning to the road from her thoughts that carried her back home, Marie looked off to the setting sun that promised to paint the willowy clouds with a pallette of pretty pinks and all the shades of orange that were fit for a peach. It was a sight she longed for, the sunset of another new horizon. Looking forward to the setting of the sun, if just to beat the heat of the day, the sound of a distant Harley growing closer with every beat of her heart held the same old ache.

"Stupid girl." Chastising herself, love unrequited was the worst kind to fall into, something she had learnt to be true from the authority on the subject, Logan himself.

And a lot of good it had done her, having watched him flirt with Jean for all those years thinking it was harmless. Countless had been the times she'd watch him search Jean's eyes for the faintest spark, his flesh a tinder he'd freely let her set aflame if just to feel her warmth against him. Only now did Marie understand why he'd hit the road as often as he had, wondering to herself if she'd have the courage to send back postcards like he always had.

This time the bike she'd heard did what all the others hadn't, it slowed on down to pull up on over onto the shoulder, announcing itself with the crush of gravel and dirt beneath its tires. The low, throaty growl was that of a thoroughbred anxious for the race, snorting with anticipation of being let loose to race the wind itself. Exhaust hung in the air, exhaust and an aftershave she couldn't mistake, _Brut_ , something she'd given enough times as a present in gift sets for all the Christmases she'd spent with a man who was more than just a friend to her, he was damned well family.

Turning, Marie found him waiting as if it was any other day back at the mansion, looking like he was wondering if she wanted to go for a ride or not.

"How did ya find me?" That was her line anyway, she'd be lying if she didn't think he couldn't have found her if he wanted to.

Logan was a man whose poker face was made of granite. Even still, she could tell he'd cheated, just as sure as he had in all those cage fights before that had been their meeting.

"I got yer letter." Digging it out of his riding vest with all the air of an afterthought, Logan pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

It looked a little worse for wear since she'd last seen it, kinda like it'd been folded up more than a few times just so it fit into the back pocket of his jeans. Standing her ground, a stubborn weed growing out of the gravel became that line which she couldn't cross, because from it to Logan and everything on back was the road she'd come. It was a road littered with bullet casings, blood, a mess of hurt, and ultimately her first kiss. They were all landmarks she didn't have the strength to revisit, not yet, not now.

Turning away from it all to again face the setting sun, it was Logan who crossed that line she couldn't. With his bike gone quiet, his ambling step across the gravel was loud against the ringing in her ears. The wind rustling through the tall grass that hedged the road was a welcome distraction, that and the tinkling ping of Logan's Harley as the hot muffler cooled.

"Ya ain't lookin' to take me home, now are ya?"

Standing mutely beside her, he dug for a cigar that brought with it another thing she missed. Breathing deep the smoke that lingered upon the breeze as he lit up, her knapsack became a heavy burden, casting it off lest she buckle beneath its weight.

"Not until yer ready." Flicking ash to fall with the dirt and filth of the gravel shoulder, Logan clenched hard against his cigar and dug for something else in his riding vest.

It was another letter, older and worse for wear than even her own, and as he handed it to her, she looked to see that it was addressed to him proper. Holding it tenderly, tracing every crease and fold with her fingers, Marie let the setting sun be forgotten as she faced him. And if his poker face was made of granite, then his expression was as mute as those monuments and masterpieces that held their secrets behind stone clad and sealed lips.

"Who...?" Her voice died as he fell away from her, turning back down that road she'd come like he was just another of her ghosts.

Logan gave a shrug as he climbed back on his bike, bringing it to life with a kick as if to spur on a wild and willful stallion. Pulling up next to her, he dug into his vest once more, this time pulling out a wad of cash like she knew him to carry. She took it gladly because they were friends, and because she could use it. But mostly because of everything it represented, the helping hand of someone who understood her better than anyone.

"I'll call ya when I'm ready." Marie promised, blinking away her tears only to feel his touch at her cheek, never scared, not once, never him.

Cured of her greedy skin, she still flinched. Of them all, it was his touch she never feared to haunt her if he lingered too long. Brushing aside a tear with his thumb, Logan left into the sunset as if to show her the way. Picking up her knapsack to find it feeling light again, she hadn't made that mistake twice, packing just what she'd need for the road. Throwing it across her shoulder, one foot was put ahead of the next, and so again.

It'd be dark by the time she hit town, and while it sure as heck wasn't like she was looking for some company to enjoy the sunset with anyway, she was still running out of daylight. Stuffing his letter into the back pocket of her Levis just like he'd probably gone and done with hers plenty enough times, she'd need a shot of something strong before she got down to reading it.

"Here's hopin' this town's got itself a decent bar."

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